


The Red of Memories.

by SepiaWhiskey



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Cassandra Pentaghast's Disgusted Noises, Cassandra is So Done, Chaptered, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Has Issues, Death, Dorian is a Good Friend, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Goodbyes, Hardened Leliana, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Red Templars, Slow Romance, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Tags May Change, Travel, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 18:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SepiaWhiskey/pseuds/SepiaWhiskey
Summary: Cullen is pleased that they will be choosing to receive the aid of the Red Templars and makes the visit with the Inquisitor to assert the alliance. But his concerns waver when he receives a note from one of the Red Templars - ( Reader ) Joanne du Perri, an old flame.[ Cullen Rutherford / Reader ]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so the reader is, in origin, black. But since I'm aware there aren't that many black girls reading this, I made it more ambiguous in appearance.

In a dark consideration of what his past held, Cullen can say with lucid honesty that she comes as a sweet memory.

 

Her name, Joanne, plays always soft on his ears as a finely tuned instrument might. He has never heard it said in a way that did not lighten his chest and play to the cadence of his heart. In the Inquisitor, he sees the troubles of a someone with the world on his shoulders. He should never expect to understand what entering the Fade, being all around loathed, and facing dragons, demons and the like feels to be. In the newly groomed generation of Red Templars, he should never expect them to understand the ravaging toll of the Blight brought to him. He finds himself often in the limbo of trauma and knows in plain fact that Joanne is simply the only one vaguely within his realm of tormenting dreams and haunting thoughts. He would wish her nights of restlessness to any bastard against the Inquisition but knows that their inconsistent corresponding is an aid to the both of them in some form or another - at least that’s what she would have him told.

 

She also had an affintity for playfully calling him a "stupid" or "dumb Templar". But that was something else entirely.

 

He writes to her when he can - a rather rare instance since the wake of the Inquisition and the sudden rush of recruitments and eager applicants. When he is not routing out missions for the Inquisitor, setting up camps in several areas of Ferelden alone, he is at war with the nobility and their demands for far more safety and their complaints of inadequate attention to them. He handles the recruits and spies within the walls of the Inquisition itself and must respond promptly to all papers that fall in rushes on his desk.  He battles daily with all he had hoped to avoid joining the Red Templars and even still, she writes. He cannot remember the last letter in which he did not apologize for his belated responses and always receives the same first line.

 

_My image of you has not changed, Cullen._

 

He wants desperately to send her something of tangible worth and even does one day in a slip of knowledge only to have it sent back, forgetting the oath of Red Templars and the supposed lack of worth in things that the Maker did not personally send down. It had been the small coin of his given to him before his departure to his formal training with the Red Templars. Her message apologetic for having to have returned it but thankful that he had been thinking of her so - writing further that she always thought about him. That in nights of peace, the rare ones, she thought of him. That in the cloudy days of training, she recalled the start of what would turn quickly into a three year affair with her set to marry elsewhere. The mentioning crushed him almost each time. To set his eyes upon the wife of another so vulgarly - the mutuality of their love, wide of the mark. He had jumped on the summons from Cassandra to distance himself from what the Maker likely damned him for and only offered a note of apology for doing what he had done and insisted within three pages that none of which was her fault but purely “his own lack of control in presence of what he had foolishly took to be his own life that was in fact anothers.”

Her response did not aid in his infatuation:

 

_Distance yourself from me if you might, Cullen. Round the world and find the deepest depths below caves and where the seas have not yet touched - you are still my life, and I yours. But if you would deny yourself this, you have only to tell me and I will never insist upon it again._

 

He never said no. Had not been able to bring himself to complete the distance he ought have years ago. He simply did not address the proposal the same way she did with her marital one. She never mentioned her marriage. Never mentioned when it occurred or who the man had been. She kept her letters short and full of questions regarding his well being and often mused onto the papers in regards to if he still missed her. He did. But he did not directly respond. He only hinted towards the melancholy that ached him to be back with the Templars at times. Questioned who he was constantly after the blight. She reassured him and he fell deeper in love with her though miles to miles away.

 

He could go see her. But it would be idealistic.

 

What would he say? She was a married woman. A Knight- Commander who was well respected and was, in fact, the one who contacted the Inquisition for support - insistent that she and the Knight-Captain in charge now would have no room for mages in their alliance and to choose.

 

“The Red Templars are slaves to lyrium. Dangle enough in front of them and they would fight for you or fight you. The mages are - “

  
“No better.” Cullen insists firmly to the skeptical Leliana who gave him a sharp look. He kept himself firm and looked over to the Inquisitor before proceeding, “The Templars are loyal to whomever would aid in them redeeming themselves. Petty opinions such as those are what they hope to move away from and aiding us in the fight against Corypheus would be just the thing they’d take to do so. Mistakes are mistakes.”

 

“But we can’t afford mistakes. We are dealing with an enemy we’ve never known. No history. No tactical readings. Nothing. We need a reliable ally and the Red Templars are not that. My apologies to you, Commander, but I would trust my agents and their current findings over the past Red Templars you might have known. Knight- Commander Joanne likely being your burst of interest in who we side with.”

  
His chest tightens and he feels a rage burn in him as he looks beyond a visibly confused Josephine, a harsh glare moving over to his spymaster, “And just what would you know of Knight Joanne.”

  
“Plenty in accordance with my agents’ findings and your letters to her. I see everything that leaves and comes here, Commander -’

“You went through my letters?!” He growls in disbelief.

 

“I must if I’m to protect the interests of the Inquisition. It was no personal attack on you, it’s done to everyone. Regardless, she is under the thumb of Lord Seeker Lucius. She would turn on you in an instant regardless of your past. Whoever you think she is now, she is no longer.” He stares at her in disbelief and there is a thick, awkward silence between the two. He has never had problem with Leliana but this borders insult. He looks down to the map on the table and looks up at the Inquisitor, voice hollow of what it was, typically, “I would move to receive aid from the Red Templars. But it is your decision. I will not falter to follow, regardless of who you would so choose. Permit my absence. I have papers to attend to.” He did not wait and kept his gaze steady forward, leaving the War Room before else could be said. Returning to his office.

 

It was, of course, in such cruel irony of his life that he might return to his quarters with no such promised work to be had, but a single letter left on the splay of his desk. He opens it, surprised to see that it has not been opened and wonders how Leliana even opened it without a little evidence.

 

_Cullen,_

_  
_ _I’ve naught to say. Truly. To this point, I have told you everything within my life and have nothing further except the miniscule ramblings of daily endeavors. I know I must bore you but I appreciate that you write back. Since I had become Knight - Commander, the comfortability in which people once spoke with me has vanished. I suppose it is the more pragmatic, and yes, ethically correct manner to go about my new title but I find that these period letters between you and I soothe the loneliness I find myself in. I have been under the learnings of Lord Seeker Lucius who was not a victim of the Blight, but did suffer things that have bonded us. I truly believe the Inquisition would benefit from this alliance. Perhaps a part of me is desperate to see you again. To see if you still have that stubble of your mouth or not. But another part of me sees the threat of what you face and the last thing I or anyone should want is for you to fail. At last, our union will not be the undoing of engagements but rather, an unexpected windfall._

 

_I miss you. I don’t say it enough. But I do._

 

_Hopefully you won’t have to write to me for a while as we’ll be in the same space._

 

_I miss you._

 

__\- Knight - Commander Joanne du Perri_ _

 

 

 

Something wasn’t right.

 

She had never spoken so formally to him. Had never written an ending so curt from her. She never wrote to him with her last name or her rank. The letter seemed tight. It was, yes, her handwriting but nothing screamed the usual givings of Joanne. He perks at the sound of his door and turns quickly. The Inquisitor stood with a look of pity that Cullen loathed Leliana for bringing before beckoning him to come inside.

 

He declines and clears his throat, “I have decided to seek aid with the Templars. I should think of you of all people knows the length of the trip and for it, we leave tonight. Now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m such an asshole. #presage

 

The trip makes for a long one, as predicted.

 

One could not fully appreciate the depth and expanse of Ferelden until her plains, fields, and woods were walked. 

 

With the unknown coming to face, it is decided that an easy group of soldiers should accompany the Inquisitor’s usual quartet. With men at the rear and forward, the middle is occupied by the Inquisitor, Dorian, Cassandra, and Iron Bull, sided from left and right of the flag bearers who erect the Inquisition's crest, pressing forward as a unified group through many smaller sections of Ferelden. Despite his mutual camaraderie between the soldiers and the Inquisitor with his allies, the Commander is as silent as ever, eyes forward with his mind to the letter he knows is tucked away within the thin slit between his calf and greaves. The impatience frustrates him and he forces his hand down when he naively takes to thinking that he is not being looked at by the worried Inquisitor, unfolding the crumpling paper to re-read the words. 

  
Was he overreacting? Perhaps she too, came to the infuriating realization that none of her letters were by any means private and was trying to seem professional within the manor in which she spoke to him; though that certainly was immediately rebuffed by the mere logic of the Red Templars themselves. The disregard for romance and bothersome feelings that hindered the combative mind they tried to hard to embed. Her letters, prior to this one, had held far more sensitive material that had involved their relationship. Thinking back, and he realizes now that it was likely on purpose, she had even gone into vivid detail of what she had favored with a night they had shared together. A night that had affirmed he would never again mix West Hill Brandy and a game of chess with an equally tactical woman. A letter that had brought so many things back that he became flush and somewhat aroused. 

 

Maker. And Leliana’s people had read everything. 

 

What was more was that while he had not been so expressive or vivid with nights that she had mentioned, he too had mentioned the past - the Red Templars, if they were as he remembered, would have never stood for such blatant speech of lust and lacking conversion of the Maker. Even when dedicated, he had found the press of faith a bit straining, and knew at that moment that she could not have been feigning professionalism with him in the name of a third party reading. Coming to this conclusion only made for another path of what could have happened, and he sincerely hoped the one that lead to the theory that she had found someone else was false as well.

 

“How does she usually respond?”

 

The Commander is jerked from his thoughts at the sight of the adjacent Inquisitor who has moved his steed next to his own, eyebrow cocked in genuine interest. He makes no effort to read the letter but looks forward, head softly nodding towards the paper, “I know you said that she responded a bit too formal. Does she usually just sign with her first name?”

 

“Jo,” Cullen mutters reluctantly. She has always been his secret. Something he did not dare to even mention in the most mum of whispers. This to mind, it feels so strange to speak so openly of her now. “Her epithet when we were still being groomed.” He fingers the first word of the entire paper, his name, and shakes his head, “And she calls me Cullen here. She’s always made a point of calling me Ford.” The Inquisitor looks confused before things click when he breaks down the Commander’s last name, nodding his head in understanding. He knows that Cullen has never been a terribly forward or social person beyond his duties as Commander, but it startles his core to see the man rendered so still. Back in the War Room, there was such a betrayal within his eyes of his relationship with this woman being exposed. Such a burst of anger and intolerance. He wonders, then and certainly now, what this woman could have done to affect him so. 

 

With little reassurance to be made until they actually reach the hold, the Inquisitor clears his throat and glances down at his gripping hands, looking at his Commander, “You said she was a Knight - Commander, right? Well who’s to say that she’s not the first person we see when we...get...there.” 

 

There is no confusion by either Inquisitor or Commander as they come in face with a small group of Red Templars upon turning gazes, faces unrevealed by the helmets they keep. Hands resting on hilts, the eight men and women stand in a line; a straight divide that successfully brings the entire trek to a dead halt. 

 

The Inquisitor and Commander dismount first before they are followed by his chosen trio of aids, approaching the men and women who stand silent. The sight is disturbing and quite frustrating when the nearness of the fortress is within the line of vision that it is. With his standing, Cullen is permitted to approach and when he does so, their obvious commander takes to approach, sword’s tip buried in the ground as he keeps it perfectly down, hands still respectfully rested on hilt, though as far as the group is concerned, this is a sign of possible attack. 

 

Cullen has no time to make a request on behalf or ask a question before the man’s voice manages to boom through the helmet, and he must wonder if the sound tires the man’s ears being contained within the metal. Regardless, through his entire assertion, the volume remains.

 

“The Lord Seeker has requested your audience at a later date. You tread on a restricted area and are being made to leave. Immediately. Return within a day and you will be permitted in.” 

 

“Bullshit,” Iron Bull comments openly, arms crossed, “Not for as far as you’ve had me walk.” 

 

“This was and is not a request.” The man puts simply, though there is enough of a jeering edge to leave Iron Bull frowning. Cullen feels his brows furrow and gestures a hand beyond them, his own aggression of the situation rising as well, “And it would be so nonsensical to simply see us a day earlier? I would worry, being under the thought that you have something to hide? The Lord Seeker?”

 

“The Commander is right,” The Inquisitor growls, “My people came a long way. A day earlier shouldn’t be a problem, unless you have something you were hoping to spring on us later than now? We’re going through,  _ today,  _ and threatening us probably isn’t your smartest bet given the numbers.” 

 

The man stands, unmoved and seemingly indifferent.

 

When his silence only makes for a growing fire within the Inquisitor, Cassandra is logical enough to come forth, though there is more concern than anger within her eyes. Hand to heart, she makes to appeal for relations and gestures for the hold, “Just let us speak to Lord See-” 

 

“The Lord Seeker does not have time to make petty talk with  _ you _ ,” he snarls, pointing beyond where they stood suddenly, and it comes to light that perhaps the Inquisitor is not the only one rising in frustration, “You are not being instructed to return to your hold but you  _ are  _ being directed to move yourselves away from this one. Else we must take necessary action to see you removed.”

 

The Inquisitor narrows his eyes, “ _ Was that a threat? _ ”

 

“We had not been threatening you,” he growls through his head wear, one hand moving to his side whilst the other made for a grip of his sword, “Until you made a threat necessary. We will rid of the rest of you and take the Inquisitor if you do not make to turn away…” The men and women behind him balance their weapons in hand, copying their commanding officer’s gesture, “ _ now.  _ I will only give you a few seconds to turn yourselves around before we make -” 

 

Whatever second threat was to make its way towards them has no time to come. There is a subtle chill that had started only seconds after the fight and the complete feeling of ice rushes past the party, arms covering heads. The frosting air is quick and sharp, but when the Commander and Inquisitor look up, their adversaries are deep within the unmoving restrain of ice, actions frozen. The Inquisitor is the first to initiate a slow turn to the nonchalant Tevinter who twirls his staff with ease, softly bringing it down on the ground with a shrug, “I find it  _ absolutely _ rude to interrupt a woman when she’s speaking. And then to have been so rude to our dear Inquisitor? I thought,  _ why fight them, you can just walk around them!  _ So I did...that. And, here we are!”

 

No one questions it. Fair enough. 

 

To this point, it becomes clear that something is wrong. To have been denied so quickly and so violently - Cullen keeps the men on guard for what is to be expected. The numbers are considered, and with the frozen commander unable to return, it would be dangerous to turn back now and be dealt surprising retribution by the Red Templars. They knew they were here. Why else would they have sent out a group to come and stop them? There was no way to actually go in head on against an entire hold and the spies who lagged to the back dispatch the ravens out to any surrounding troops. 

 

There is something about the men that Cullen only brings forth amidst the planning of how to go in - they were all startlingly steady. This could mean two things, though by the man’s quick rage, he is sure it is the latter. They are either clean Templars or their flow of the shit is strong and constant. If so, he knows that their strength will come great. Surrounding troops swear their swift arrival, but with time a factor, the Inquisitor makes the harsh decision that they must move in now, under some form of guise or clandestinely, all together. The men are split up and divided to pry through areas of the hold. While he had not been here in years, Cullen is mildly aware of a few areas that may work, though for who is standing there, he is reluctant to admit that he is unsure. 

 

Then the Inquisitor says this:

 

“Find Knight - Commander du Perri, Cullen.” 

 

The Commander looks up, stunned. The Inquisitor looks to him and gives a nod, “You know her. Maybe she will be willing to tell you what’s going on. Even if Leliana says she’s under his thumb, there may be a strong chance that she will help us. There’s a reason they don’t want us in here and maybe she’s not so indoctrinated that she’d be willing to expose that.” It’s shit for an excuse for him to find Joanne, but Cullen takes it with a silent nod and rounds his men setting them to their positions. There is a mild rise of hope at the flickering light that goes on and off for a moment before blinking off in its entirety. A sign that the reinforcements are making their way here. He informs the Inquisitor who gives nod and readies his people to enter with him.

 

The trebuchets fire.

 

The battle commences.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucius’ speech is bold because it’s the demon speaking through him. Seemed a bit more appropriate to acknowledge that.

**** Had they come the day after, whose to say what they might have walked into?

 

Reaching the entrance of the keep shows a different side to what had been expected from the Lord Seeker. Despite splitting up, the numbers in which the Inquisition's militia face are heavy. It's any soldier's knowledge that a man or woman so indoctrinated that they are fearless to pain and death are the most haunting faces of war. So to be faced with an entire keep of them, throwing themselves in a daze of Red Lyrium and undying loyalty. It throws the commander off several steps. He overcomes his grief of having to, in essence, slay those he would consider brothers and sisters. He had so many times and yet had never stopped to truly appreciate the merit of his own words: He was a part of the Inquisition now. And those who stood against the greater cause of closing the Rift..?

 

As much as it hurt, they simply could not be considered.

 

This was not to say wide massacre of those unwilling to help was in order, but a direct understanding that anyone who made the conscious choice to directly go against the Inquisition had darker interests in mind and needed to be removed. He divides his own troops into seperate directions, cautioning them to make light of areas where the trebuchets are launching. Stopping this long to plan was already putting them in a risky position to be flanked or fired at. He is relents his forces, keeping two higher ranking commanders with him, lining the great wall carefully. It was more than likely that if they could find the command center - the keep itself, they would a have a fighting chance of actually stopping this at its core. These people were neck deep in Red Lyrium, but that didn't make them blind to a lost battle. 

 

He hoped. 

 

The image of Jo does stick heartily in his mind, but he knows it would be selfish to completely go searching for her, leaving his troops to fend for themselves. He was still a commander, and they were still his family in arms. As badly as he wants to drop everything and go on the search, he swallows the fact that he can't right now and run the two lieutenants forward, halting at the first sight of the courtyard. Impulsively, he draws the two lieutenants forth to aid the Inquisitor who fights back to back with Dorian. His arrows would only allow him so much before someone took him from the side. He joins the duo, back to them as he calls, "Inquisitor! We've taken the north and east battlements but we're struggling on the south and west. They seem to be protecting the Great Hall." 

 

"What do you think it means?" The Inquisitor grunts, drawing another arrow. 

 

"Either the Lord Seeker is in hiding, or the big secret that made for this attack."

 

"Or both! Hiding the Lord Seeker with the big secret!" Dorian chimes, "I think you both forgot I was here!"

 

"What do you want to do, Inquisitor?" Cullen queries.

 

The Inquisitor pauses, looking around at a single pause in the attack before nodding towards the Great Hall, "The Great Hall - all three of us, let's go. Dorian cover our backs?"

 

"On it!" That same chill from earlier breaks the heated atmosphere, an outstretched wall of ice covering the three of them. Without a moment to waste, the trio bolt forward. They maneuvered themselves through the greater battle taking place in the center of the courtyard now, aiding when they can but otherwise pursuing the Great Hall with a complete determination. Cullen is the one to reach the door first. When he finds it looked, he rams the bottom of his boot to the poorly blocked wooden door. It takes three bashings before the wood splinters and the Inquisitor retrieves his dagger, driving it into the narrow space of the door. With a push, he makes a final kick with the Commander, the both of them jerk the door back, Dorian at the rear watching for any oncoming attacks. 

 

The door is pushed and the three men push through, taking the armoire used to block the door to close it off behind them. It's almost startling how muted the fighting outside becomes. The Great Hall, in all of its size, appears to quiet the ringing of clanging swords and cries. At the moment, the only sound is the moderate, appropropriate panting from the men. They pause, catching their breaths, and then look up.

 

"Maker's Breath..." Cullen breathes.

 

Expansive, jagged edged rocks of Red Lyrium sprout from the ground and through the flooring like unchecked weeds. It would not be so great a deal as there are great chunks of the mess everywhere. But the poignant color is unlike any rocks that Inquisitor has ever come across to destroy. The reach the ceiling that curves and mounts like something of a sanctorium ceiling height. They are, by far, the largest any of the men have ever seen. And despite the quiet of the room, there is a sickly feeling to the air. Instinctively, they cover their mouths promptly - Cullen especially. 

 

"So this was the big secret." Dorian breathes.

 

"But why?" Cullen queries, "Why and how?"

 

**_"For power, Commander."_ **

 

The harsh boots of a man beat against the shredded flooring, bringing Lord Seeker Lucius into view. 

 

"Explain this. Now," The Inquisitor growls.

 

**"Was my statement not enough?"** The man scoffs, shaking his head. In a true fashion of the arrogant, he folds his hands behind his back. There is no rush to his stride and once the Red Templars in hiding make their presence known, it becomes obvious why. Admittedly, there are only four, but that was two more with Lucius included than the trio had. The man tilts his chin up, looking closer before a slight smirk overcomes him at the sight of Cullen,  **"I had a feeling you would try and come here, Commander. Though, if we're being honest, I truly thought that you would come alone. Would've made for a far less blood reaction on our part. The Inquisitor was to receive his end tomorrow. One of our Knight - Commmander's asked about a letter from you that came in for her. I figured you must be a very imposing figure if you could stray a Templar from their path so easily. And as you’ve clearly been made light of, I decided to offer the response in her name. ”**

 

Joanne.

 

"What . Did. You . Do?" Cullen growls.

 

**"To Joanne?"** Lucius spits,  **"Nothing she didn't agree to when she became a Red Templar. You must give yourself to the Maker completely. If not in death, than to the cause of protecting His name."** In the final words of his rhetoric, he raises his hands as though giving praise, much to the disgust of Cullen.

 

"This is not for the Maker. This is your own selfish agenda," The Inquisitor spews darkly.

 

**"Perhaps in some vein. But at heart, Inquisitor? Does it truly matter where you stand? If you are such a champion of His name as you say, then stand here now and speak for Him. And if you cannot, would the Maker not betray His clandestine nature all to save you - His herald?"**

 

"I can't -" 

 

**"Because it is LIES!"**

 

There is such a feral nature in the way Lucius speaks that Dorian catches onto. The beady darkness of his eyes. This does not fit the profile Cassandra had painted of him. And while the are not particularly close, Dorian knows that Cassandra is an intelligent woman. She would not lie to herself if the man was this cruel and paint him as this understanding leader. Something is wrong and while he cannot directly pinpoint what it is, he is coherent enough in situation to mumble loud enough for the two men in front of him to hear, "I truly don't believe this is Lucius." The Inquisitor turns partly with a nod in agreement, but Cullen is unmoved in his anger that he feels he cannot contain. His fists clamp in the restraints of his gloves and he steps forward, much to the surprise of the Inquisitor and Dorian.

 

"This is your last day to draw a breath, Lucius. You've corrupted the Red Templars and have the audacity to try and kill the Inquisitor al in the name of what? The Maker. It’s Those are the lies here. And they end here. You have one more chance - what did you do to Knight - Commmander Joanne du Perri?”

 

The Lord Seeker looks at Commander for a long while before his lips upturn into a wicked simper:

 

**_“I made sure she suffered.”_ **

 

There is not a part of hii that can be controlled when this is said. Cullen can only see red and withdraws his sword. His feet take him forward. All sound comes as a white noise, blending together. He can only look forward at the man with his hands behind his back. He looks down at Cullen’s desperate state with such a humored dismissiveness, the Commander cannot help himself. Faintly, he can hear Dorian and the Inquisitor calling for him to fall back, but all he can think about is driving his sword right through the man’s neck. He does not stop to consider why the men who should be protecting Lucius do not even slightly move when he runs up the steps, but cannot be bothered to stop at this point. 

 

Lucius smirks wider at his approaching figure and shifts just slightly, seeming be grabbing for something from behind his back before his face drains of light. Cullen stops short and the surrounding Templars finally turn in what looks to be surprise. He looks down and sees that someone has beat him to the puncture. The end of a blade peaks in the center of Lucius’ abdomen, cleanly removed after two seconds of holding. Lucius’ staggers, looking up at Cullen before collapsing face first, rolling down the steps like a child’s doll.

 

Standing where Lucius did, is one of the men who had been there to protect Lucius. He looks up at Cullen with shaky eyes. The Templars draw arms and the same man backs up, sword ready to defend himself, “I’ll explain everything after this. I swear.” 

 

He is a man of his word. Upon ridding the of final Templars, the man removes his helmet and draws his sword away, tightly shaking Cullen’s hand after a bow, “I’m Knight Templar Delrin Barris. I was working closely with the Lord Seeker these last few weeks before...all of this. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he had plans to lure and kill you here, Inquisitor.” 

 

“That much is clear,” The Inquisitor drawls, visibly a bit annoyed at the persistent attempts on his life at this point.

 

Barris nods and looks back at the Commander before glancing at the gasping Lucius on the ground, “I can only apologize for my part in all of this. For all our parts. This is not who the Red Templars are. As small an excuse it may seem - we were just following orders. The Lord Seeker kept us under a number of new rules. I don’t know if you remember me, Inquisitor? I was in Val Royeaux at the time of your arrival.”

 

“Vaguely,” The Inquisitor nods.

 

“I tried to speak with Lucius about the changing expectations going on, but was threatened with being in contempt. I had to keep my mouth shut. When you started running towards him, I saw him about to pull something out.” The young man shakes his head, rubbing his nape, “Wasn’t supposed to be like this.” 

 

“What the hell is this?” Cullen asks, gesturing towards the towering shard of Red Lyrium a few feet away. Barris glances but doesn’t look long, looking back at the men, “Another one of those changes I tried to speak to him about. Lucius said if we wanted to last long against the Inquisition, we needed to start thinking about different ways. I knew something was wrong when he started rewriting what happened in Val Royeaux. He claimed you had declared the Inquisition the ruling body. That you spoke vulgarly about the Maker.”

 

“And you still helped him?” Dorian questions tartly. 

 

“As I said, I was following orders. I’m not proud of my blindness.” 

 

“You still haven’t explained what this is. Too much of this stuff could kill you.” Cullen interrupts.   
  


“And it has been. They’ve been stacking bodies down in the bailey for Maker knows how long. At first, they tried the simpler method of inducing higher levels into the doses. But after a handful of us had died, he moved to more...arcanic interventions. The type that can really mess you us.” 

 

“Blood magic,” Dorian breathes.

 

Barris nods, “Our mages began quietly incorporating it into meals. I thought I was going to die and I almost did. It was too strong when placed directly in the blood. The mages complained that our tolerance to Red Lyrium was too fresh. That even if a method worked, we were too weak to take it. So they started targeting higher ranking Templars. Those of us who had been exposed for years - unsuspecting officers. Knight - Commanders and Knight - Captains. They started complaining about breathing problems when they went to sleep. Headaches, fainting spells, vomiting. The only thing was - it worked. The officers were actually stronger. But unless they were at their highest levels of adrenaline, the prior side effects came back.” He gestures for the men to follow him as he speaks down the upcoming corridor, leaving Lucius.

 

“Knight - Commander du Perri was one of the first to accuse the mages of playing a role. She said she hadn’t been feeling sick until their presence became more prominent. Lucius warned her about being in contempt but she kept insisting. He’s been wanting to get rid of her for a while, and when he found your letter, he saw it as an opportunity to get rid of her and make her suffer as well.” 

 

Cullen only winces. He mentally prepares himself to see the corpse of Joanne. Ached and worn from her illness. He tries his damndest not to emote too much but cannot bare the thought of having arrived too late. Back in the main room of the Great Hall, Cullen swears he hears a hellish screech, but assumes it is Lucius and hopes he is in the lowest depth of pain. Barris removes the barrier of one room once taking them down a flight of hidden steps, opening the door, “I know it doesn’t make up for my role, but after I read the documents on all of this, I tried to make up for it somehow. So I moved the last few officers down here and...oh, no.” 

 

Cullen pushes the man aside, walking in before taking in why he seemed to be startled. The room is stained red, but it’s not just from red lyrium. The corpses of four officers lay strung around the room, but there stomachs are torn with the sight of the lyrium pushing through. And finally, at the corner, Joanne. She clutches her stomach, panting in a panic as a helmeted officer, clearly out of his right mind, lurching towards her.

 

An arrow fires forward from the Inquisitor, pinning the man(?) by the neck into the wall. He reaches out to grab Joanne like some sort of undead, only far more violent in his actions. Cullen discontinued his efforts, driving his sword into the man’s head. He stops all at once, and Joanne looks up, eyes weary but somehow managing the sight of surprise, “Ford?”

 

At the brink of collapse, Cullen catches her just in time, pulling her over and resting her against the wall where she slumps. Her hand remains on her stomach. She lets out a quiet sound of pain, turning away a moment before straining in her speech, “I’m sorry. I had no idea he wrote under my name until Barris told me.” 

 

“It didn’t take much. He said he knew it wasn’t you the moment he read it.” The Inquisitor tries softly, kneeling down but keeping his distance from the Commander and the Knight - Commander. She gives a weak chuckle, looking down, “Of course. I should have known better. You’re too smart to be tricked. I would never address you respectfully.” 

 

Cullen feels a small, sad smile pull at his lips. He removes his gloves, looking on either side of her before looking behind him, “Can you walk at all?”

 

“It feels like death to even stand,” she grunts.

  
“I can carry her out,” Dorian offers.

 

“No,” She sputters, shaking her head, “I’m not leaving.” 

 

Cullen turns back to her quickly,  _ “What?” _   
  


“I know...ugh, I know Barris did not tell you. Because he did not know. Maker, I didn’t know until a few days ago.” She works the finer parts of her armor and relents the tightness of the leather, exhaling a moment, “The Red Templars are polyphasic sleepers, Inquisitor. I’m sure you’ve seen Ford - I’m sure you’ve seen Cullen walking about late.” 

 

“Polyphasic?” The Inquisitor questions.

 

“We sleep in periods during the day rather than the standard eight hours. It allows us to always be on the lookout and vigilant. The mages - those fuckers. The mages who did this did not take this into account. It was never a problem because I was constantly getting up after a few hours of sleep. But if anyone who has the same level of lyrium that we did, we cannot stay immobile for a long period of time, or else it starts to erode our insides.”

 

“How long have you been immobile?” Cullen breathes lowly.

 

_ “Days,”  _ She shudders, shaking her head, “I’ve been too sick. A self fulfilling prophecy. I cannot move because I’m too weak from not moving.” She shakes her head, looking up at Cullen. She keeps his gaze a long while before smiling softly, voice cracking all at once, “But I couldn’t picture saying goodbye to anyone else.”

 

“Maker’s Breath, don’t say that,” Cullen growls, taking her hand when she reaches for his. It is warm, but overly so. He almost wants to let go but cannot for the life of him, kneeling completely in front of her slouched figure. She licks her lips, gesturing towards her armor, “Can you - help me with this? I feel hot. It’s making it worse.” Cullen nods and Dorian offers to help. The Inquisitor stands at the door while Barris goes back up the stairs to keep watch for any “surprises” from any surviving Templars. From what he can hear, the battle is winding down to a close. He can only pray it is the Inquisition for the feat.

 

They allow her out of the bulking armor of the Templars, leaving her comfortably in her shirt, leather jerkin and trousers, boots still on by her request. Dorian steps away and allows them the privacy, going up to help Barris. While the Inquisitor is at the door, Cullen still speaks plainly, looking at Joanne, “I kept every letter you sent me. Every single one.” 

 

“You better have,” she gives a breathy laugh, “You can’t imagine the..the strain on my hand writing them.”

 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop this.” 

 

“How could you have possibly known, Ford? How?” 

 

“It doesn’t matter! I should have read between the lines sooner! Should have checked on you. I should have been here.” 

 

“Your place was and is at the Inquisition. End of story.”

 

She flexes a bit, groaning but keeping a hand on her stomach the entire time they speak. Cullen’ stomach churns to see her in pain. She hacks for what feels like a minute before looking up at Cullen again, “I’m dying, Cullen. But I won’t just die. I’ll turn into what they did. So feral and...just a monster.” 

 

He is about to speak but is stopped when she touches his lips with her hand, leaning in, “I want you to kill me before I turn into that.”

 

Cullen doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He can hardly think. Joanne remains close after saying this but he still knows better than to move. Her words don’t register and he pulls back, looking at her with so much hurt in his eyes and voice that he can barely think, “Joanne - “ 

 

“I don’t want to be  _ that  _  when I die, Cullen…” She strains, hand running over his, “I want to be the same Joanne whose letters you saved. Do you want the last image of me to be me coming towards you like some monster? I don’t. I refuse to let it be. I want to be a person when I die. And I - I’m too scared to do it myself.” 

 

Joanne? Scared?

 

“Please, Cullen.  _ Please.”  _ Her breathes begin to strain and she twists in pain again, hand clenching his tightly, “I’m sorry you have to see me like this. I’m sorry it’s all happening like this. I should have told you instead of being vague in my letters. I’m sorry, Cullen.” 

 

He takes her face in his hands, making her look up at him, “My image of you has not changed, Joanne.” 

 

She quakes a bit, eyes blurring in what seems to be the first time in some years he has seen her cry.

 

“Distance yourself from me if you might, Joanne. Round the world and find the deepest depths below caves and where the seas have not yet touched - you are still my life, and I yours.”

 

She actually laughs through her tears, “I can’t believe you held onto those trite letters. You stupid Templar.” She laughs, managing the slightest bit of strength to press her lips against his, moving her arms onto his shoulders with his help. And as strange as it is to say, Cullen finds himself laughing as well. This was the nature of Joanne. She could always make something out of tragic situation - a prime example to now. There was something so final about the kiss that made it all the more necessary. It’s not overly aggressive or too conservative. It reaches a level of passion that you would give to a lover going off to war. The type that reads  _ I’m going to miss you, but I know we’ll see each other again. _

 

She pulls away finally, head against the stone wall before she sighs, eyes closed, “I’m ready.” 

 

“Joanne, I can’t - “

 

“I’ll do it.” 

 

The two look behind and see the Inquisitor standing, facing them, “I understand if you say no. But if it’s too much. I’ll do it.” 

 

“If you trust him,” She sighs, eyes still closed, “Then I trust him.” 

 

“I would trust the Inquisitor with my life.” 

 

“Can you hold my hand?” She asks quietly, unrelenting of his hold. Cullen looks down at her and nods, moving to her side and keeping her hand in his, “Of course.” The Inquisitor briefly closes the door, coming over. He is thankful that the woman keeps her eyes closed, though, they seem almost relaxed. He could not imagine completely accepting death in such a foreseen way. He relaxes his fingers around the hilt of the Commander’s sword, approaching the Knight- Commander with a small sigh. Cullen only looks at Joanne’s expression. 

  
“I love you, Ford.” 

 

“I love you, Jo.” 

 

The Inquisitor is quick and clean. She relents her hold on Cullen’s hand almost immediately, exhaling finally before she is still. 

 

“You…” Cullen chokes, throat suddenly unable to manage words. He looks away, clearing his throat, “You made it clean. Painless. Thank you.” 

 

“Of course. I’m so sorry, Cullen."

 

"Don't be." That's all Cullen says for the remainder of the day. The bodies are collected and made to be buried in a few weeks. It's only natural to bring a bit of order back to the keep before a proper burial of officers. Cullen lingers by the entrance while the Inquisition troops manage themselves, gathering up to head back. It'd be a long trip, so it can't be helped.

 

"Commander!" He turns partly to the beckon of his title, finding Ser Barris coming forth with a satchel. He only furrows his brow and looks at the man.

 

"Knight- Commander du Perri's satchel. I found it when we were cleaning out her room. I thought you might want to have it."

 

He looks down and can tell something light is in it. He nods to Barris in thanks, turning away. He opens up the sack, eyes widening in surprise when he finds his letters to her tucked away. Not just letter from the last few years. Letters from when their lovelorn days. Letters from the beginning. He looks up at the keep and back down at the satchel. And while it's not the strongest or full of much joy, the slightest smile comes over him at the sight. 

 

So she wasn't gone. At least not completely. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I thought about doing an epilogue but give this isn't that popular, probably not.


End file.
